


Some Lines You Cannot Cross

by Briar_Rose_Bramble



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: 4x11 ouat, F/M, Heroes and Villains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 22:39:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2790305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Briar_Rose_Bramble/pseuds/Briar_Rose_Bramble
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle and Gold at the Town Line. <br/>The end of Heroes and Villains re-told</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Lines You Cannot Cross

Too late, Belle realises that she has not visited the town line since Killian Jones sent a bullet through her shoulder and robbed her of her self. It's a dark place, even in broad daylight, with memories sharp with pain and the scent of gunpowder. Any other time, and being here would have prompted her to slip a hand into Rumple's, gripping tightly onto him and the memories they share.

But that was before.

Now, the last thing she wants is for her husband to touch her. The last thing she wants and yet the thing she craves above all else. Even now, with her heart breaking inside her chest, she longs for him. He may choose power over their love, but Belle knows that she would pick him every time, even knowing of his betrayal. Even knowing that he would resort to murder – _enjoy it_ – to get his way.

And that's how she knows she must let him go.

"I just wanted you." It sounds weak to Belle's ears, but it's the truth. She chose to believe in true love, chose to believe despite the hardships and the dangers, chose to believe in him. That he could love her above all else, just as she loves him.

"I wanted to be chosen." More than a prize won in a deal, more than a magic gauntlet or a fairy wand or any other trinket left to gather dust on a shelf. "I tried to be everything for you, Rumple." In the way that he was everything to her. "But I wasn't, and I lost my way in trying to help you find yourself."

That is the part that hurts the most. Belle has ignored every whisper of doubt, every impulse to test the dagger's worth, every questioning glance from Emma or Ruby or Snow…

Belle knows it cannot go on.

Rumple can see it on her face. His eyes widen and his jaw slackens; the granite control of Mr Gold cracking like eggshell in the split second it takes him to realise that she is in earnest.

"Please, Belle," he whines, almost like a child in fear of punishment. He sounds so much like the husband that she comforted through nightmares that it makes her feel sick. "I'll make it up to you," he promises, grasping at crumbling hope. "I've changed before, I can do it again!"

"You've never changed." The words stick in her throat, caught on the ache that threatens to overcome her. Tears are falling freely now, but Belle dashes them aside. Weakness can wait. She's allowed herself to be weak for so long where he is concerned, but now it is time to be cold and hard, unyielding as the dagger she grasps.

"Please," he begs.

Rumpelstiltskin never begs.

Belle feels his desire to fall to his knees before he can even move and instinctively jerks the dagger, holding him upright. She will lose all resolve if she sees him on his knees. She hates herself for it, for taking even this last vestiges of control, but she pushing the feeling beneath the churning surface of her anger. Cold steel does not feel guilt, and neither will she, not now. She can hate herself when he is gone.

_When he is gone._

Her stomach turns to ice and her legs threaten to give way beneath her.

The town line. The Snow Queen's curse.

_When he is gone._

He'll never be able to resist power. Not while the dagger can be used to control him. Not while he can convince himself that he only does it to protect himself, or her, or Henry, or town. Well Belle doesn't want his protection, not at the cost of her heart, her sense of self, her own mind. Belle wants to be more than simply another excuse for his behaviour and it is killing her to know that she never will.

"No," she decides, with a finality that scares her. "It's too late. Rumplestilstskin, I command you to leave Storybrooke."

"Belle, no, please! I won't be able to come back!"

_Cold and hard as steel._

"I know."

He's fighting it with every ounce of strength and formidable will power that he has, but the dagger in her hand is stronger even than him. Belle's stomach threatens to revolt as she forces him backwards towards the very thing he fears the most. His Italian shoes slide haltingly across the asphalt. One heel edges across the orange paint and a shimmer of magic – _icy blue, Belle notes absently_ – marks his progress.

An entire foot is across the line, Ingrid's magic licking at his trouser leg like cold fire.

"Please, Belle," he whispers, and Belle can feel his resistance fading through the hilt of the dagger. The moment he stops trying to force her hand and throws himself entirely on her mercy instead. His face his blank with terror and resignation. "I'm afraid."

Allowing his weight to rest on his back leg, he begins to drag the other across the line.

"Wait."

The word hangs in their air, heavy as a storm cloud, resounding in the damp air like thunder. Rumple stands, motionless, his eyes fixed on her face, half in her world and half in the land beyond.

Part of Belle wishes she could just turn her back and look away.

But Belle is not a coward, for all she has been a fool.

"You've always chosen power," she repeats. "Always."

"No, Belle, plea—"

"Silence!" she spits, and his lips snap shut with enough force to be heard across the cold night that separates them. She winces, hating this power over him even as she clings to the dagger. _What nightmares will follow this?_ she wonders, powerless to silence her own thoughts. _This betrayal at her hands?_

Unbidden, a line of Byron floats up to the surface of her mind, _Guilt and shame shall cling to thee, and haunt thee like a feverish dream_. It fits all too well.

Rumple had read Byron to her while she was relearning to live after leaving her locked cell in the hospital. He had chosen _She Walks in Beauty_ , soft voice filling the words with reverence and love, but now she imagines the sneer on his face as he spits these very different words at her, his accent thickening with emotion, adding a hard edge to already hateful words.

Belle knows that he will not be the only one with nightmares after tonight.

"You always choose power." Her voice is softer now, sadder. Anger is fading, leaving only pain in its wake. "You always choose the dagger, even though you call it a curse."

She raises her hand, the dagger now high above her head.

Rumple tries to speak, but the power of the dagger is too strong. He's completely powerless before her. Completely and utterly at her mercy.

"Well I free you from your curse."

Her hand slashes down and Rumple cries out in despair.

There is a flash of brilliant purple as the dagger strikes the Ice Queen's spell, a crackle of raw power and a smell like ozone. Then nothing.

The dagger clatters as it hits the road on the far side of the spell and skitters inelegantly into the undergrowth at the side of the road, an oddly-shaped but ultimately ordinary blade.

No magic can exist outside of Storybrooke.

Rumple spins round to watch, his momentum carrying him back inside the town. His injured leg crumples beneath him, and he falls to the ground.

For a moment Belle is certain that he will crawl after the knife, choosing even a broken blade over a life with her and without magic, but he stays. His breath is coming in pants and his shoulders are sloped beneath the impeccable lines of his suit.

He's broken.

He's free.

There's no going back from this, she knows.

 

 

 


End file.
